


a blessing and a curse

by geassevoker



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-14 07:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geassevoker/pseuds/geassevoker
Summary: Rewinding time does not mean those moments never happened. It does not erase death in its entirety.Or: Byleth learns the hard way that the Divine Pulse has unseen effects.





	1. Chapter 1

It's late and her eyes sting from preparing her lesson plans for her class. Just a few more, she thinks to herself. She knows that Ingrid is preparing for her exam as a Pegasus Rider and Felix his swordsmaster. She knows Ashe has an innate desire for learning the axe alongside his trusty bow, but knows that he can do much more with a sword. She pushes Sylvain to study his magics, to read the spellbooks that he seems to grasp innately.

There's so much going on in planning the intricacies of each of her students' unique curriculum, she loses herself in the words and the diagrams. She doesn't hear the soft knock of her door opening, nor is she able to react to someone suddenly saying her name. It is only her sheer will that she doesn't whip around and kill the intruder where they stand.

"Professor?" A familiar voice says hesitantly. "I saw the lamp light on and I figure...well, I didn't want to assume."

She lets out the breath she was holding in her lungs and rises from her seat to meet Dimitri and let him in. She expects to see the prince in his usual proud attire and demeanor. She does not expect the sullen look in his eyes nor the mess of his usually well-kept hair. She hopes her face doesn't react to the sight, but it seem Dimitri recognizes the unspoken question in her mind.

"Professor, I have a question." His voice is rough, as if he's done nothing but screaming. She tilts her head slightly, gestures him to speak his mind. "It's a bit of an odd question, I'll admit."

"Whatever the question is," Byleth says calmly, "I'll answer it."

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes to ready himself. One. Two. Three. Exhale. One. Two.

"Have you ever had nightmares before?"

Externally, she doesn't react beyond more than a crinkle in her eyes to express her confusion. Her mind, however, is racing. Why that particular question? She won't share with anyone the dreams of Sothis on that lonely stone throne, sleeping away or watching her back. However, she can't say she's ever had nightmares that would startle her awake.

She shakes her head slowly. "No I can't say I have."

Dimitri's hands ball up into fists and his face blushes just ever so slightly. "Ah this was a silly question. I shouldn't have bothered you." He turns on his heel, ready to walk out the door. "I'll take my leave now, Professor-"

She doesn't allow him to finish that sentence before she reaches for his wrist to stay. He stills at the contact. "Please. If something's bothering you, you can't let it stay bottled up."

The hand on the door slowly lets go and returns to his side. Byleth considers that a small achievement. He doesn't turn to face her and he doesn't say anything to fill the expectant silence.

"Dimitri," she slowly pulls him closer to her desk and away from the door. "Did you have a nightmare?"

It's a normal question to follow up with, she tells herself. She won't admit any sort of favoritism towards her students, but she won't lie when she says that out of all of them, Dimitri worries her the most. Ever since Remire village and the sudden aggression towards that mage and his followers, she hasn't had the time to follow up with him, being swamped with work from the Church and the lesson plans for their certification exams.

Byleth silently breathes and then, looks up.

She meets his eyes, a storm of blue with a myriad of emotion rapidly moving in his eyes. She isn't used to the amalgam of emotions that can run rampant on a person's face. Yet, she can see the fear, the despair, the anger.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, his gaze is subdued.

"I don't sleep well to begin with because of nightmares." He says with a crack in his voice. "I....I usually find it easier to train myself to exhaustion so I don't dream, but I also know it's not a cure-all and I usually don't let it bother me too much. But this time..."

"Professor," Dimitri meets her gaze with a look of despair in his eyes, "I had a dream I died at Remire Village."

Though her heart does not beat, it still feels like it has, the way the blood rushes in her ears. Her eyes widen at the statement in shock because....

Because at one point in a forgotten timeline, Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd died from a mortal wound.

"I know it's just a dream," he says quickly to fill the void of silence, "but when I woke up, I felt such an intense pain." Dimitri looks down at his hands, hiding whatever expression is on his face. Byleth has half a mind to force his gaze to meet hers, to see what exactly lurks in those blue eyes of his.

"Dreams are often illogical in nature." She would know, considering the dreams of a little girl sleeping on her throne. Byleth does not know the procedure to handle this particular situation, struggles to find the right words to convey comfort to him. She tentatively places a hand on his shoulder and pats him for comfort. Though she is not used to comforting another person, Byleth has observed enough of her fellow mercenaries to know that this is a common gesture.

She does not expect the sudden pull on her wrist nor the warmth that surrounds her. To his credit, if it were any other situation, she would have dryly mentioned that this is the first time she's been taking off guard.

"It seems so real," Dimitri murmurs and oh, a warm breath blows right into her ear. His grip tightens and pulls her closer. She can't see his expression, but she can imagine the grief-stricken look on his face. She runs one of her hands through his blonde hair, mussed up from sleep and the nightmare. Despite her wanting to soothe the pain and stop him from recalling the event, he speaks again, his usually strong voice quieter and more torn than she's ever heard.

"I remember the villagers rioting, slaying everyone around them. I remember yelling for the sane ones to leave from where we came and it was all going well. Then....then I remember my guard dropping because a child ran towards me and suddenly, a....a sword..."

"You don't have to say anymore." At the sound of Byleth's soft reply, Dimitri lets go just enough to look at her. Their foreheads rest on each other and their warm breaths mingle in the space between them and oh, she's never noticed the specks of different blues in his eyes before.

"I can still feel the pain right here," his hand moves over his chest where his heart is. "I remember Mercedes running right over with you behind her. I remember her crying as her magics tried to save me." He shudders as he recalls the dream, but he can't bring himself to stop. "I'm an awful person to be able to dream of my own death, but somehow...I can't shake the feeling that it was real."

Byleth bites her tongue, knows full well that it was. She remember channeling the Divine Pulse, Sothis's mystic magic easily rewriting time to prevent that event from happening. She recalls the gasp that clogged her throat as she watched Dimitri fall to the ground, the sharp lance of shock and horror piercing through her body as though she were the one stabbed right through and no no, he can't die here-

She comes back from that not-reality when Dimitri suddenly holds her back at arm's length. The two hands on her shoulders are holding her tightly, but in the dim glow of candlelight, she can faintly see pink dusting his face.

"I am so sorry, Professor. I shouldn't have burdened you with this. It's inappropriate and I'm overstepping my boundaries-"

"Dimitri." The one word is spoken softly, a wisp in the warm autumn air, but he quiets all the same. Byleth palms his cheek and forces him to meet her steady gaze. "Nothing you do will ever be a burden to me. If you need me, I will be here."

A promise is just words, but somehow in her not-beating heart, she wills for those meager words to carry the weight of a thousand worlds in it. She means for this young prince to become a great man, to lead his people righteously. She will rewrite time however much she can to make sure he breathes another day, to meet the rising sun with his own eyes.

Dimitri's eyes are wide with shock at the words and she wonders if she's said something wrong.

"Professor..." One of his hands lays on top of hers and he leans into her again, his head resting on her shoulders.

"Shh, it was all just a dream." Byleth whispers as she resumes running her hands through his hair. It seems to have quite the soothing effect, if the way Dimitri relaxes and breathes out slowly means anything. "I won't let anything happen to you."

It feels like an eternity of peaceful serenity before Dimitri finally lets her go. Byleth silently wishes that this moment would never end, but knows that time will forever march on, whether she wants it to or not. Not even a goddess's power will stop that.

"Thank you, professor," Dimitri says. She notices the look in his eyes is different from before. No longer is it afflicted with fear, but with warmth and affection. It is the same expression that her father gives her when they're eating dinner, but somehow, even that is different from right now. Right now, there is something swelling in her chest at the sight and she absent-mindedly reaches a hand out to cup his cheek.

At that touch, Dimitri quickly stands up and looks away from her. "Ah, it's getting late! I should head back."

She doesn't say a word and she watches him go. Somehow, she feels as if something has shifted in their relationship. However, the candle runs low and she should get some rest before class starts. She'll have the time later to think on everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one time she wishes time would erase death.

After that night, Byleth tries her hardest not to use the Divine Pulse. She doesn't ask any of her students about their phantom pains; she wouldn't even know how to bring it up, much less what to say. The mere thought of such pain on her students evokes a certain sadness in her.

"You're hesitating," Jeralt says as he effortlessly parries another swing of her sword. He pushes her back and drops into his stance as he levels a steady gaze at her. "That's a first for you."

She doesn't say anything, merely looks him head on as she falls into her position. 

At the sight, Jeralt sighs before sheathing his sword. The act stills Byleth's hand and she watches as Jeralt runs a hand through his hair.

"What's on your mind, kid?" Byleth knows her father well enough to know that he's unsure of how to proceed, but she's in the same situation. She drops her stance and resheathes her sword. How does she voice that the power of a goddess might be ruining her students' lives by having them relive countless deaths at her hands? 

The deep sigh interrupts the cycle of thoughts. "This must really be messing you up." Jeralt walks over to her and pats her on the head. For a moment, a slight twinge of annoyance creeps up in her, but is quickly smothered by his next words. "I know being a leader to a bunch of untrained kids is tough, but I know you'll do your best to keep them safe."

_ The fog creeps in from everywhere again and goddess, she can't see a damned thing. She slays every target effortlessly, a dance she's intimately familiar with. Yet there is still an inkling of doubt that slows her movements just a bit. _

_ These are not hardened bandits she's fighting. The people she fights are mere villagers, unlikely to have ever wielded a weapon in their hands or trained in the art of taking lives. As she cuts another down, she can't find it within herself to be able to be the moniker that was given to her. _

_ A little further into the unnatural fog, she sees Dimitri cut down a man gripping onto a woodcutting axe and she can see the way his hands shake just a bit. They're militia forces, volunteer men fighting for a cause they don't quite understand. Byleth shares the same doubt, but she can't let herself get distracted by it or else she'll fall just like them_

_ "Keep going." She yells aloud to her class, raising her torch against the fog. "I'm sure the mages are around here."_

_ She doesn't need to see them to know that her students and battalions are following her orders. She sees another mage, hiding far away in a corner of the forest and she readies her sword to end this fog. She hopes this is the last one. She turns on her heel, hoping to ask Felix to cover her when she sees Annette tired from casting another of her deadly wind spells. _

_ In her exhaustion, she doesn't see the villager readying his bow from afar. Byleth wants to scream, but the arrow releases right as Byleth calls for Annette. _

_ Annette doesn't get the chance to react as the arrow lands true._

_ Some part of her cracks at seeing Annette fall. She doesn't dare look at the injury itself, but the arrow sticking out of her eye is sure to haunt her forever. She's seen worse, done worse, but somehow the sight makes her stomach churn and she feels queasy. _

_ "Stop gawking and do it already!" Sothis materializes in front of her, hand extended out towards her. She shuts her eyes hard, as if to will away the image with sheer determination. _

_ When she opens her eyes, she manages to warn Felix fast enough to kill the villager ready to shoot his bow. Despite his bravado, Byleth sees something wither in Felix as he cuts down the man. The blood sprays onto his clothes and he frowns. He'll never know about Annette or the way her body crumples to the ground or see the sight of her blood. _

_ She hopes he'll never have to, but it's a pointless endeavor, considering that her students will often come back with scratches and injuries. _

_ She'll give her life to make sure they don't bring back a corpse._

"But what if I can't?" Byleth says quietly, hoping the light winds will carry her voice away. 

He hides the shock well, but Byleth can see the surprise in his eyes, in the way the hand on top of her head stills. Instantly she regrets her decision and readies herself for disappointment. Sothis floats behind his shoulders, waving in such a distracting manner.

She ignores the small goddess in favor of looking up at her father. His honey eyes are warm with emotions and his usually stern face has melted into a placating expression. Before Byleth has the opportunity to react, he brings her into a deep hug. She _ oomphs _ at the impact and how tightly he holds her. A hand of his runs through her hair and it soothes the thoughts that plague her.

"The fact you worry about doing right says more than you realize." The rumble of his voice echoes with how close she is. She closes her eyes. "Those kids trust you with their lives. I'm sure you're using everything you have at your disposal to keep them alive."

Glowing green eyes watch the pair. Sothis smiles mischievously at his words and it takes all of Byleth's composure not to react at his words. If only he knew.

"I'm always proud of you, kid." Something blooms in her chest at the words. Jeralt hugs her tighter. "Don't ever forget that."

She squeezes him back, unwilling to let go. Byleth still doesn't quite understand the newfound emotions that swell within her, but she's willing to sift through it all if it meant that her father would hug her like this. 

She holds back a whine at him letting her go. The way he looks at her tells her he didn't miss that suppressed sound, but he thankfully lets it slide. 

"We should get something to eat. Worked up an appetite." They both walk out of the training halls and Byleth doesn't feel any better about her powers, but with her father by her side, she can do anything. She can smell the spices wafting from the halls and her stomach growls. Jeralt laughs heartily at that and Byleth smiles a bit at the sound. 

"It's our favorite meal, smells like." Jeralt exaggerates his sniffing the air and sighs. "Whatever spices they use for their whitefish, I like it."

Byleth nods and when they walk in, the cook already has plates of the meal ready to go. They grab two plates along with some side dishes and sit down at their own table. They gorge themselves on the meal, enjoying the time they have with each other with their presence and companable silence. She wants this moment to last. She tries to hold onto this peace. 

But then the rain pours. She rewinds time because forget the consequences, she can't let her father die. The first, second, third fourth times blur together. Each time breaking her anew as she watches the dagger slice her father open. The fifth time, her head swims in agony as she sees Jeralt, still standing in the middle of the field. 

A flash of red, Byleth's pulse skips in adrenaline. She starts in a sprint, sword already ready. "Father, watch out!"

Jeralt turns immediately and sees Monica, smiling sweetly. Her hands are behind her back and Byleth hates knowing the end result of this failure. She readies her arm back, sword collapsing into a whip form and readies to channel its inner power when she meets Monica's eyes. 

"Byleth, what are you-" And Jeralt stops, stiffens just a little and Byleth screams in rage as she lets loose her power. Monica barely dodges, clearly not ready for such a retaliation so quickly. 

"What in the -" Monica barely manages to stutter out before a wisp of purple mist appears in between them. 

"We must go," Solon says. The magic pools at his feet, the spell already preparing to activate. "We don't have the time to dawdle."

Mismatched eyes watch her and she wishes she didn't wear herself out from the usage of her Divine Pulse and readying that one slash of pure power. She cannot decipher the look in his eyes, but for once, it does not seem to hold the same haughty indifference she saw last time. His eyes are wide, face gnarled with...fear? She raises the Sword of the Creator, points it at him and relishes in the way he frightens. She can't do anymore, not with the way her body yells at her. It screams with exhaustion. 

The pair disappears and Byleth shuts her eyes, hopes to prevent this again, but her head feels like it cracks. She feels the power ebb in her, but can't do anymore with it. She opens her eyes slowly and oh, her chest heaves and burns.

Then she sees her father's body slump to the ground and nothing else matters anymore. When she reaches his body, she can feel something break inside her at the sight before her. Jeralt the Blade Breaker, her indomitable father. His blood pools out beneath him and part of her wishes that it's merely the rain making it spread out further, but the dread clogs her head. 

Then suddenly, Jeralt groans and it spurs her out of the reverie. She kneels down to him. "Father?"

"K-kid?" Jeralt says as he clutches his sides. Byleth tries to summon what meager faith she has into healing his wounds. The blood is tacky on her hands. She's learned from Rhea, from Manuela. Please don't die. Don't. 

"How many times," the cough rattles his whole body and she only tries harder to summon the magic at her fingertips, "did you try to save me?"

At that, Byleth freezes. The magic sputters out completely, her focus caught on that line. "Father?"

A weak smirk pulls at Jeralt's lips, but the sight only tears her emotions asunder. His large hand shakes as it reaches to touch her cheek. "I...I saw you. Five times. You tried to save me."

His voice sounds so much weaker and Byleth feels her eyes sting. She doesn't want to lose him. She can't. Not like this. Please-

"I was hoping....the first time I saw your tears... would be when you fell in love..." Jeralt's eyes slowly drift shut, the breath rattling in his lungs. "I love you...Byleth."

And that hand falls. And the whole world tears itself asunder.


End file.
